


The Last of the Domanovas

by SirJosephBanksFRS



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirJosephBanksFRS/pseuds/SirJosephBanksFRS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the way to El Rosselló, Stephen Maturin and his godfather discuss the past and Stephen’s future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last of the Domanovas

The large grey stallion, Dídac and the little bay mare, Laia were tied out to trees to rest after their strenuous uphill climb of four hours and Ramón d’Ullastret i Casademon set about unpacking the saddlebags to bring out their dinner whilst Stephen Maturin gathered wood and made the fire. It was still nearly chilly up in the mountains despite it being midday in the end of May and Stephen had just returned to Ullastret from Barcelona two days beforehand for the summer, two months after his fourteenth birthday. He was still almost a foot shorter than Ramon and very slender, but the gauntness of his childhood was gone.  
  
They sat companionably next to the fire, passing their _bota_ back and forth and drinking Empordà and eating _pa de pagès_ with olive oil and _formatge de tupí_ whilst the food heated over the fire. When the first _bota_ of wine was gone, Ramon opened the next filled with far stronger Tarragona, which would not now kill their appetites nor intoxicate them rapidly, given they had already eaten a good deal. The food was a boar stew that Ramon had brought with them in a clay pot and it was rich in chanterelles, garlic, onions, potatoes and red wine and was unctuously savoury. Stephen ate ravenously, for he was in the midst of a growth spurt.

“You know why we are going to El Rosselló, _el meu fill_?” Ramon said, after he had swallowed a large piece of _pa de pagès._

“Not really.”

“I have some business to do there but I want you to see it, for it is all yours, my dearest _fillol_ , and you are old enough now to really understand and remember. You need to see your land and to learn your land. There is the castle and two square leguas of land. We must check on the caretaker and the sheep.”

“Mine?” Stephen repeated.

“Yes, yours. You are the last of the Domanovas and therefore it is entirely yours. You will be the lord of the manor once you have reached the age of majority.” Stephen said nothing, considering. He breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of the forest, the warm, dry pine needles beneath them, the scent of the mountain air heated by the sun that filtered through the trees. They were still so low in altitude that there was a tree canopy above them now in late spring.

“But I am... I am not...” He swallowed. “I am a bastard, _Padrí_.”

“You are the last of the Domanovas and so it is yours. That is the law, even if some needed to be reminded of it. It has been of the Domanovas for many hundreds of years now.” Ramon looked at him somewhat gingerly. " _Llavors_ , Esteve, Brother Gregorio of Sant Cugat sent me an excellent report on your progress. They are especially pleased with your work of this year. They tell me you have memorised the entire _Aeneid_ , an unheard of accomplishment for your form." Ramon said. "They say that you might become another Doctor of the Church in time, they asked me to discuss your vocation with you and to say what I thought of you going to seminary next year and of course, I said that I must consult you and defer entirely to your wishes. So tell me, _el meu fill_ , is that your wish?" Stephen looked at him very seriously.

"No, _Padrí._ " Ramon was surprised and it showed plainly on his handsome craggy face.

"Truly?"

"Yes, truly."

"You do not wish it? I thought you would go to the monastery at Montserrat or even to Rome if you wished to choose a different order." Ramon said. “I confess, I am astonished, given your piety, your devotion, and your scholarship.”

"I do not have a vocation, for I have not the temperament. I am too much in the world, _Padrí_ , I sin too much." Ramon looked at him, trying to hide his amusement at the idea of Stephen's sins.

"Do you have an idea of what you wish to do?"

"I wish to study medicine, to study physic." Stephen said. “I wish to become a physician.” Ramon smiled in spite of his attempts to suppress it. He put his bowl down and took Stephen’s hand in his, shaking it firmly.

“Esteve, _el meu fill_ , I am so very happy to hear this news.” Ramon said and he leaned over and kissed Stephen on both cheeks “Have you any idea where? In Barcelona or do you wish to travel? The University of Paris is famous for their physicians.”

“I wish, “ Stephen said looking up at him, “in a year or so to go to Ireland, to study at Trinity College in Dublin, _Padrí_ , if you agree that it is a wise plan.” Ramon was surprised but he concealed it well.

“Of course, of course, an excellent idea; I shall write your cousins directly and see which term you might begin. Dublin is a far way but you are a young man now, no longer a child, my son. The world is your oyster. Of course, you should go and explore your father’s country and know his people, of course.” He gazed in the fire. “I must confess, I am selfishly happy that you do not have a vocation. Not that there is anything wrong with being a priest or a friar, my own brother is a priest, but I prefer that you stay in the world, as you put it. You must have your own child, when the time is right, for another Domanova to have El Rosselló.” Stephen looked at him, his eyes cast in sadness.  Ramon leaned next to him, embracing him around the shoulders.  "Why are you so downcast, _el meu fill_?"

"I think I shall be alone a very long while. I may well be the last Domanova, priest or no priest."

"Nonsense. What do you know of girls? You have spent your entire childhood in a monastic school. You will have many sweethearts, Esteve.  You may come back when you finish your studies in seven years and marry Laeti."

" _Padrí_ , I do not sit well with her. She has never liked me in the least. Pray never breathe a word to her lest she hate me more for it. I am no great prize. I know that.”

"Why do you say you are no great prize?"

"I am an orphan and a bastard into the bargain, no woman's idea of a fine match. Neither am I any Adonis.  I hope that I might be a success as a physician, that I might at least distinguish myself professionally. I believe I have an inclination in that direction.”

"You are so very much like your father." Ramon said.  Stephen lifted the _bota_ and drank deeply and then asked the question he had wished to pose for so many years and had never had the courage to ask.

"Why did he never marry my mother?"

"He wanted to, very much. Your grandfather, Don Joaquim, would not permit it. He was a hard-hearted man. He would never allow her to marry an officer in the Spanish army, he hated Castilla so much, much less a foreigner in the service of Castilla. He had no intention of ever allowing them to wed and when he found out that -- well, he punished her. He said he would not send her to the convent, for she would enjoy it too much. He only allowed her to nurse you for three months because the priest told him that you were such a sickly baby and if you should die, the sin would be on his head and no priest would absolve him, that it would be eternal perdition for him. He kept her locked up in El Rosselló from that day forward until she died of _la grip_ back in the spring that you turned five. Don Joaquim had armed sentries; Ciarán was never allowed to see her alone and he never saw her again after you were born and were sent off to Ireland. Don Joaquim died of it two weeks after Francesca. If only it had been the other way around.” Ramon said very sadly. He sighed and took a drink from the _bota_. “Your father died six weeks after your mother. I think it was grief as much as the illness. He blamed himself, that she died. I only wish I had taken her to Barcelona  away from El Rosselló, right after they met, to stay in my apartments there, so they could have married right away. Poor child." Ramon said, quietly. "They were married in spirit, Esteven. He had eyes for no other woman. He thought that they would marry finally when Don Joaquim died but it was too late."

"Tell me more about him. What kind of man was he?" Ramon leaned back and smiled.

"Ciarán was so very much like you. You favour him in appearance. He was slight of build but very strong and quick, wiry and powerful. He was immensely clever. He spoke Portuguese, Castellano, Catalan, Irish, English and French fluently. He was devout, more so than I. He loved music. He was very ambitious, had great professional aspirations. He was a very good friend. When we both lived in Barcelona, he would come to my rooms and we would play cards and chess and stay up talking into the wee, wee hours, when he was on leave, so he could stay out as long as he wished. He could have a bad temper, though -- he was quick to take offense if he thought his honour was being trampled on in the least. I miss him very, very much." Ramon said.

“And my mother?”

“Francesca was quiet, serious, devout, and very beautiful. She was a bookish child, she loved to read and she loved nature. She excelled in school but she could only go until she was thirteen because she was a girl and your grandfather did not want her to be a nun, though she had wished to be a Poor Clare in Barcelona as a child. She told me very seriously when she was seven that she wanted to grow up to be a saint. When she was still a little girl, she would walk with me around El Rosselló and ask me the names of every living thing we saw and even what the rocks were called. I introduced Ciarán to your mother, in Ullastret. She had come for the festival for Santa Maria de la Bisbal. Ciarán was smitten with her immediately, but she was very young, she had just turned twenty when they met. Her father wanted to arrange a match for her with a nobleman and she refused. He refused to give his blessing to your parents getting married and it was impossible then for her to go against her father’s will. I think that is why they had you, she thought that she would ruin her reputation and then he would have to let them get married, but instead he punished her, by locking her up in El Rosselló. Francesca was such a sweet, sweet girl.” Ramon said wistfully. ‘Your grandmother wanted to let them marry and Don Joaquim said no. They fought all the time over it and she left him and went to Lleida permanently. She never spoke to him again, until after Francesca died and she went back and struck him across the face and called him a murderer and said she hoped he would die of _la grip_ as well. _Ai, el meu déu_.” Ramon said. “I knew some day I should have to tell you this.” He sighed. “Esteven, I know you are a pious and chaste lad and I need hardly say this to you, but better that you not end up in the situation that your father was in, if you might avoid it. Do not beget any child out of wedlock, for there is so much heartbreak in it. They never dreamt that they would never see you again, once you were sent to Ireland."

They heard a soft snuffling noise behind them and they turned and looked. There was a tiny boar piglet standing looking at them, the size of a very small dog, less than ten pounds. Its coat was marbled with chocolate, black and cream horizontal stripes from neck to tail. Ramon’s hazel eyes sparkled with barely suppressed laughter and he gave Stephen a piece of bread to extend towards the boar, and they both held bread out. The piglet’s tail wagged in a manner startlingly like a puppy’s and it came up to them and ate the bread from Stephen’s hand. Ramon laughed very softly.

“Well, there you have him, _el meu fill_. He has chosen you.”

“Shall we take him with us?” Stephen said, looking very hopefully at Ramon.

“As you wish. I think we need a new pet in Ullastret. What shall you name him?”

“Feliu de Guíxol, for he is dark and so very happy.” Stephen said, as the piglet came and climbed into his lap to eat more bread. Ramon laughed.

“A good choice. He may sit in the saddle with you or we may put him in the saddle bag. Give him the rest of that bread and let us hope his mother does not find us before we leave.” Ramon said and they finished their dinner and saddled up for El Rosselló, a warm, furry piglet sleeping next to Stephen’s belly as he rode.

 


End file.
